Just Drowning
by Mia-Teresa-Davenport
Summary: "Mia," Chase says quietly. I look over at the sound of my name to see a tearful Bree and a tearful Adam looking at me as they enter my room and sit next to me. "What's depression like?" I frown at the sudden question, and I have to think for moment. What is it like? I speak up after a few seconds of silence. "It's like drowning, but everyone around you is breathing."


**A/N:**

**Mia-Teresa-Davenport: Hey there, everyone! It's Mia here with yet another Lab Rats story! I know that's been a while since I wrote a new story about Chia and Bradam, but I've been working on Survival of the Fittest for a while now, but I decided that I would write a Chia and Bradam story, because well, I felt like Chia and Bradam needed some love from me, or something along those lines.**

**Personally, Bradam is my favorite ship on Lab Rats. I also like Bree/Chase too, but then I got over Brase a while ago and I've now officially swung over to the Bradam ship.**

**By the way, for those of you who are new, Chia is my own ship name for Chase and Mia. I'm pretty sure you guys can figure out what goes where for their names. You guys are all smart, so I know you can figure that out in like two point five seconds. :3**

**I like how this story is a Subject Mia story this time, too! So that's been a while as well. I haven't written a Subject Mia story since Avalanche came out, and I kinda miss writing Chia and Bradam moments like this. I am very excited to be sharing this story with you all!**

**I know that Drowning kinda came out of the blue, and it literally kind of did just happen like that. Yep, that's right, folks, Drowning came off of the top of my head at a random time yesterday night, and I decided to write it down on my notes in my Ipad before I would forget what it was about. That would have been bad if I had forgotten what this story was about, considering the length. (By the way, I am also writing this story on my Ipad, so I don't exactly have the best spell check in the world, so please excuse any errors in spelling/grammar or anything that doesn't seem right in a story.)**

**I'm sorry that this exact story, Drowning, wasn't on the poll on my profile and stuff like that, and I'm sorry for that, but I decided to make this up randomly, and I was too lazy to add the summary that you see right up there in the poll's choice and my profile. Oops. But now you know why this isn't a story that was placed on my profile. I'll probably add it later in later or something.**

**There is Chia fluff/angst/hurt/comfort in this story, so for all my Subject Mia/ Chia shippers, (if there are any,) please try not to flip out in the comments section about how much you might/might not like it/ like me because of the angst/hurt/comfort I put in this story.**

**…Actually, I'm kinda curious now. :3. Quick question: Are there any Chia shippers who are reading this story? If there are, could you please give me your love for Chia in a review or a PM to me? I would like it very much. :D (Actually, do I EVEN have fans in ANY of my stories? Uh, if I don't, then this Author's Note will be a waste of time for my non-Chia/ Subject Mia series friends.)**

**But uh, if anyone cares about my pointless antics/ ramblings, can some of you from my Subject Mia (even if it's just one or two or three of you,) series appear and type a review in in the review section? I'd like to see who ships Chia, and what you guys think of my Subject Mia series in general. :3**

**This is just a little one shot with Mia and the Lab Rats for my Subject Mia series. If you haven't read my Subject Mia stories/ series, I suggest you do it now because if you read this story you will be very confused. Then you can come back and read this story/ one shot. Or, you don't have to. It's your choice. But seriously, please do not whine and moan about something when you don't understand who Mia is or this story and why Bree has the last name of 'Comenzo' while in the show her last name is 'Davenport.' JUST PLEASE READ MY OTHER STORIES/ MY OTHER SUBJECT MIA STORIES OR YOU WILL BE SO VERY CONFUSED.**

**Also, on a totally unrelated note, I don't like when people whine about my stories because they are OOC compared to the TV show. It'd be appreciated if you don't do that. It just makes me angry and upset and really, really annoyed. I don't appreciate it when people might complain on my stories. Thanks.**

**I should warn you all- my lovely readers- now: There is depression in here, in this one shot I have decided to write for my fans/fellow fanfiction authors if any you want to read it. I'm only warning you once, and I will only warn you one time only, so listen very closely.**

**Mia is depressed in this story. There might be triggering thoughts in here, but she doesn't do anything drastic. Mia, in all of my other stories, AKA Avalanche and Yours and On the Run, is not depressed. This doesn't follow any story to my Subject Mia series. This is just for the heck of it. I have had this idea for a while now, but I put it off, and now I'm here, back again and writing it down on my Ipad.**

**Also, I'm sorry if there are any spelling/ grammar errors/ and stuff that doesn't look right in a story. I am on my Ipad, after all, so there isn't exactly a good spell checking tool right at the tips of my fingers like there usually is on a computer or a laptop…**

**If any of you are battling with depression/ cutting/ anorexia, or have tired to do suicide attempts or anything of the like, please hit the back button now. This is might be triggering to if anyone has has these thoughts or has tried this before. I'm serious. Stuff like that isn't a joke. Please hit the back button if any of this might make you uncomfortable or something of the sorts.**

**Don't forget to check out my other stories and vote on the poll if you haven't already. Or, you guys can tell me in a review on any of my stories! The more you guys say something, the more I'll be likely to write that suggestion! Tell me what you guys thought of this story, and if I should keep writing my Subject Mia stories/ more depressed Mia stories, or anything of the like. Just shoot me a PM or tell me in a review on what Subject Mia story you want me to write! I don't bite, so that means I'm always open for suggestions on a brand new Subject Mia stories/ any Lab Rats stories, so fire away, my friends! :)**

**Now, if I haven't made you hit the back button from this extremely long, annoying and boring Authors Note, (I don't know if you are even listening to me,) please enjoy.**

**Okay, so who wants to do this disclaimer for me? How about you, Bree?**

**Bree: "Mia-Teresa-Davenport doesn't own Lab Rats, or anything you recognize from the show. She just owns Mia Comenzo, and me, Bree Comenzo. Sort of. It's… It's really complicated. Let's just say that she only owns Bree Comenzo. She DOESN'T own Bree Davenport from Lab Rats, but she owns Bree COMENZO, AKA me. Um, did that make sense?"**

**Mia-Teresa-Davenport: I hope it did.**

**Bree: "Right, then she only owns Mia and Bree COMENZO, then. Not Bree DAVENPORT. All rights to Bree DAVENPORT go to the creators of Lab Rats, and DisneyXD. I only belong to Mia-Teresa-Davenport. How did I do?"**

**Mia-Teresa-Davenport: "Good. You did a good job, Bree. :3"**

**Bree: "Yay. Enjoy the story! Don't forget to review while your at it!"**

**Enjoy! :3 Don't forget to review and tell me how I did! :) Thanks, and enjoy Drowning!**

* * *

People say that no matter how hard you try, you can never be perfect at anything you do. At least, not flawlessly perfect. There are always going to be flaws in what you do, what you make, whatever you design, in someway or another, no matter who you are or who you know. There's always going to be a flaw in the programming, a flaw in the design, no matter how big or how small. There always is, no matter how perfect you think it is.

Like Mr. Davenport's runaway train, for instance. That was flawed, even though he said it was flawless. He said it was so flawless that there was nothing wrong with it, and then Leo asked me that if his amazing design for a high speed train was so flawless, why did Mr. Davenport forget to instal an emergency break?

Honestly though, it's Mr. Davenport. Would you expect anything less from him? Leo should know that his ego is the size of a skyscraper stacked up on top of the Empire State Building on top of a few tour busses, and then some other crazy large car or truck or something. Although Leo didn't exactly know Mr. Davenport back then, at least, he didn't know how large Mr. Davenport's ego was.

Human beings aren't perfect. Nobody is perfect at everything and everything they do. Take Lance Armstrong for example.

Whenever someone falls once, they get right back up and try again. Although, I guess Lance Armstrong isn't a very good example, but whatever.

Motivation, the simple act of living the life that they have and getting to smile and laugh and do everyday normal things like they do everyday, for them- for the normal people - is what gets them up in the morning. I just get up and breathe. Nothing motivates me to do anything anymore. So instead I just sit down on the couch or in my room and be silent for hours on end, shrugging off Bree's pleads to eat while the rest of my family is eating dinner, and I decided to sit there. I ignore Adam's sobs that I can hear at night from my room, ignore Chase's tear stained cheeks and Leo's sad looks. I just push that all away and wrap myself up in my now-bearable blanket of sadness and pain.

I am losing myself, and I don't know how to pick myself up off the ground. I've done it before, picked myself off the ground and helped my family pick themselves up off the ground, but now, the roles are reversed. I'm the one who needs to be picked up off the ground, and I know that I can't be picked up and dusted off this time, even with with help of the Dooley's and Mr. Davenport and Adam, Bree and Chase.

So what am I supposed to do with myself now besides just breathe? I don't enjoy anything anymore. I go on missions and help out like I usually and always do, I do as I'm told and I don't question anything either Mr. Davenport or Chase says, (even though I am co mission leader,) but now there's a dead aura surrounding me. I'm pretty sure it makes my whole family miserable, but I barely notice the little details anymore.

I barley notice anything happy anymore. That just makes my pain worse and worse.

Once I'm done with the mission we go on, I change out of my mission suit and change into a nice comfortable outfit, super speed back upstairs, grab a pint or two of my favorite Ben and Jerry's ice cream- Chocolate Fudge Brownie and Half Baked ice cream - from the freezer, shrug off Leo and Tasha's questions of how the mission went. I only reply with a "it went okay. We were fast. There were no complications, as usual." Or something like that, something along those lines. And then I pile the pints of ice cream with my favorite toppings until they are basically overflowing at the edges of the bowl, stick one of them back in the freezer because I don't want it to melt, and eat the full ice cream while I'm on the couch or sitting up in my room or at the island.

No one questions this. They let me eat a pint of ice cream once and a while without question or hesitation. They let me do what I want now.

Human beings aren't perfect, and neither are their families. We've all read about them in the newspaper or seen them on TV or read them in a ad or something or read them in books. If you thought that having a bionic, drama filled family was any better, then you are one hundred percent completely wrong. Completely.

I agree with that statement a hundred percent, that you aren't perfect at everything, that you can't be perfect at everything, no matter how hard you try. Sure, I'm bionic, one of the most powerful bionics in the world, but I can't shake the feeling that I'm not perfect, that I am flawed, that I can never be fixed.

Adam, Bree, and Chase tell me otherwise.

They say that I'm beautiful, nice, smart and kind, and that I have the best life anyone could ask for. Whenever they remind me, I just nod and smile, and pretend like everything is alright, and it is, for a little while. They remind me that they will always love me, and that even though I might be flawed, they will always love me. Always, no matter what.

Always…

When they tell me these nice things, I just smiled through the pain even though I stopped smiling- really smiling- a little while ago. I don't see a point to smile about anything anymore, so I just wear a fake smile and pretend that I'm fine.

But the reality is so, so much worse.

I became depressed when I was taken away from my family- the only people I have ever known and loved- by the FBI. For three months of my life, the FBI agents tortured me, kept me isolated in a cell in a remote facility in the state of Vermont for three months of my life- for three months of Hell.

They hurt me. They threw me in simulations against my will. They told me my family was dead in a hundred different ways. They made me think I hurt my friends and family because 'I'm a weapon and weapons should be treated as weapons and they are just soulless, cold monsters'. Is that what I am? Is that who I was in their eyes? Is that who I am in everybody's eyes now? A weapon? A monster?

So I wasn't called by my real name, Mia. They didn't even call me Subject Mia or Subject M. I was called a weapon.

Yep, you heard me correctly. A weapon.

Here are some examples of when the FBI agents called me by my dreaded nickname and the name that haunts me in my sleep, weapon:

"Get up, weapon. We're training today." Or, "You can keep going, weapon. Fight until you drop." Or, "I thought you were a lot powerful than that. Get up." And the like. Needless to say it wasn't fun.

My torture- both verbal and physical- kept going for three months, constantly, until Adam, Bree and Chase finally found me, lying on the cell's cement ground in the Facility that isn't even supposed to exist, that half of the United States Government don't even know- much less think- about, bleeding out from the abuse those FBI agents gave me not long ago before Adam, Bree and Chase showed up.

That's why I became depressed. I became depressed because of the memories of my own personal Hell. Some days I'm better, even if it's just for a little while, but then I remember what tears me apart, what made me into a weapon, and then just like that I'm right back to where I started before.

When I came back home after being so very alone for three months of my life, I wasn't the same. I wasn't the same girl I was three months ago, before all of that started. I think that everyone in my family saw that immediately. They gave me my space, gave me as much time as I needed to clear my head, and that helped, even if it was just for a little while.

It still helped.

I swirl my straw in my glass of ice water lazily, and I stare at the glass kitchen table. The table blurs in and out of focus now and again and my eyes started to burn and my head started to hurt just a little bit- which is a sign that I've stared at the table way too long, for longer than is completely necessary, but I don't mind. I need something to distract me from the pain.

I need something to distract me from the memories.

The table is very quiet, almost deathly silent, save for the clatter of metal utensils on plates and the occasional cough or sneeze- which makes someone mutter a "bless you"- or which makes everyone say bless you, minus me- and then a thank you and a you're welcome is exchanged between whoever sneezed and the person who said bless you and the sound of someone sipping their dink of water or anything else that they have, as it's been for the past three months. It's been like this for the past three months, The only time I talk is whenever either I or my friends make a comment about Tasha's cooking, which is flawless, as it always has been.

Mr. Davenport doesn't brag about himself or about how awesome he is or his inventions or how Davenport Industries is doing with their stock markets, or if they are making a new invention and might distribute it worldwide or how Krane and the bionic army is still out there, or a new invention that he might make, or if school was good today or even how perfect his black spiky hair is anymore. He doesn't talk about a possible mission anymore or do anything of that nature. He just but eat and make comments on how good the food is. Other than that he sits in silence.

He just eats quietly and casts the occasional glance to me, and I can see through his dark brown eyes that he's silently begging me to eat, but I don't want to. I don't see the point in eating anymore, but I shovel a large amount of forkfuls of steak or chicken or French fries or whatever we are having for dinner that night in my mouth automatically to make my family happy for a little while. I eat to shut my stomach up and to make my family happy, even if it's just for a minute or so, or even for the rest of dinner.

I don't think they notice this, but I do. I might be a slight hypocrite for saying that I don't notice the little things anymore, but I do notice a few things whenever I take a bite out of my food.

I see the way Tasha's eyes light up when I eat some rice or eat a carrot or two, or when I eat a large piece of lobster or ham I can see that Mr. Davenport is watching intently while I'm eating the piece of meat, or when I eat a piece of pork chop or a piece of turkey.

I can see that Leo has a smile twitching at the corner of his lips whenever I eat a forkful of salad, which is a very rare sight nowadays. I can see Adam smile warmly at me for a few seconds whenever take a bite out of a bacon cheeseburger. I can see the way Bree breathes out in relief when I take even the tiniest bite out of a hot dog or a meatball sub.

I can defiantly see the excitement in Chase's eyes when I take a bite out of a taco or when I take a bite of pepperoni pizza.

How pathetic is that? I force myself to eat to make the people that I love and the people who love me back happy. I think that it is very pathetic.

And for a little bit, I feel something stirring inside of my body. It's something close to the life I used to have before I turned into a weapon, into a monster. It's something close to happiness and love, but as soon as it's there, it's gone, like it never even was there in the first place.

That's the only time where I feel like I am back to the girl I was before I got turned into a weapon.

To this day, I'm still shocked that they let me go freely, that Adam, Bree, Chase and I were allowed to walk away from that facility freely without any resistance from the FBI or of the sorts. The FBI agents must have decided that I was broken enough to be a weapon, and that's why they decided to let me go. I'm a dangerous weapon, and that they've decided that I've had enough torture. I have the mental scars to prove that what they did to me was real and not a dream.

I have nightmares every night or almost every night of the Hell I was out through in those three long months.

I drink the rest of my drink, and let the cold liquid that is the simple drink called cold water slide down my throat and settle in my stomach comfortably before setting the glass down again. I place the last French fry from my place and pop it into my mouth and automatically chew and swallow, clear my throat gently and walk to the kitchen sink, my back turned to Donald and Tasha and Leo. I can feel three pairs of eyes on me, burning holes into my face and the back of my head and burning into the rest of my body, tracking my every movement and I blink. I immediately know who it is, based on the concerned emotions I can literally feel coming off of them.

My older sister, my best friend, and my boyfriend are staring at me, and they are thinking the same thing.

_We need to talk to Mia._

I don't even bother to look up as I begin to clean my glass off with a towel from the rack, so instead I sigh as an alternative to looking up as I wipe the smooth surface of the glass.

"I hope you three do know that I can hear your thoughts. You do know that, right, guys? It's kind of hard to think quietly and privately when there is a mind reader in the room. I've been living with you guys for two years, Adam and Chase. And Chase, we've been together for two years. We've been together for a year, eight and a half months, and nineteen and a half days. I know you won't keep something from me, Chase. You love me, and I love you too, but you can't keep secrets from me like this. I always find out if you are hiding something, babe."

I blink and keep my face and my eyes emotionless and my voice in a solemn, with just the faintest hint of deadness in my voice. I keep my emotions locked away and bottled up inside me, like I have been doing for the past few weeks. I stopped showing any emotion because I don't feel the need to have any emotions slapped on my face, even if they are fake.

They glance at each other, and their thoughts are cut off from me. They either stopped thinking about the thoughts they just had or they are silently arguing their their eyes with each other.

I place the cup into the dishwasher and then I begin to work on my cleaning my plate with my super speed.

I glance at the clock as I shut the dishwasher's door. 9:35 at night. We had a late dinner tonight, but that's okay. At least I'll go to bed with something in my stomach, so I'll take that as a good thing.

And god knows that there aren't a lot of good things in my life- actually, in the Davenport/Dooley/Comenzo household in general- right now.

"I'm going to bed, guys. Goodnight." I don't wait for an answer, and, in a blur of color, wind and sound, I super speed up to my room, shut the door and get quickly changed into some pajamas before falling into my bed and pulling the covers over my body.

Sleep is the only thing that I can do to calm myself down, to get away from the harsh reality of what happened three months ago, so I've begun to sleep a lot, too. I shut my eyes and sigh lightly, tucking the covers of my bed underneath my chin, and I fall asleep instantly.

* * *

I'm pulled out of my blissful dream state when I hear my bedroom door open, and it immediately know who it is. It's Chase. He stands at my bedroom door's threshold, (I can also tell who it is by their breathing patterns because of my bionics,) and I smile despite the fact that my face is buried in my comfortable, fluffy pillow. My face kind of hurts from how widely I just smiled.

Smiling is very, very rare for me. I'm pretty sure in the past three months I've only smiled twice, and that was for a millisecond when Adam and Bree were playfully teasing each other, like a good, healthy boyfriend and girlfriend relationship should have. As soon as it was there, it left.

Chase stands in the doorway for a few seconds, I can tell because there aren't any footsteps scuffing softly against the light blue fuzzy rug of my bedroom.

He moves over to my bedside and I hear him chuckle softly. He must still think I'm asleep or something, so I decide to let him know I'm awake by rolling over so I'm facing him, letting my sky blue eyes snap open as I gaze up at him, smiling slightly.

Chase blinks in shock. Weather it's from him thinking that I was asleep when I actually wasn't, or when I smiled up at him, even if it is the barest of smiles. "Mia, I thought you were… I thought you were asleep."

I shake my head, pushing my hair out of my face and tucking a loose strand behind my ear before blinking up at my boyfriend, whose hazel eyes are staring intently into my sky blue eyes.

"No, I was awake." I say, blinking the first signs of sleep out of my eyes. "Why are you here, Chase?"

"What, I can't see my beautiful, kind, amazing girlfriend?" He asks me, and there's a barest hint of a smile there, a smile that's tugging at the edges of his lips, but it doesn't quiet reach his eyes.

I shake my head, suddenly becoming interesting in my fingernails. I sigh. "I'm not beautiful or kind, Chase."

He stares at me intensely. "I reject that."

I shake my head and sit up so I'm facing him. "No," I say, rubbing my eyes to get any traces of sleep out my my eyes, just in case, "You are just saying that, Chase. You just want to make me feel better. I know that, Chase."

"No, you are, Mia. You are." He insists, a sad, almost puppy dog like expression on his tan face, but I bite my lip and sigh, shaking my head.

"Whatever." I mutter, and Chase just sits down on my bed, running his fingers through my long, wavy blonde hair gently, swallowing lightly as he stares down at me intensely.

"Mia," Chase says quietly, so quietly that if I didn't have my bionic hearing, I would have not been able to hear him at all. I look over at the sound of my name to look at my boyfriend, who has tears in his hazel eyes, only to see a tearful Bree and a tearful Adam looking at me as they enter my room and sit next to me on my bed.

Chase swallows as he's wrapped up in my warm embrace, my arms going around his back, and Adam wraps his free arm around his little brother's shoulder. "What's depression like?"

I frown at the sudden question, and I have to think for moment. What is it like? I speak up after a few seconds of silence. Adam and Bree hold hands as they stare at me with something close to confusion in their eyes. They must not understand what depression is either.

"It's like drowning, but everyone around you is breathing." I say loudly after a few seconds, trying to make my voice steady, biting my lip. I mentally cheer when my voice comes out steady and strong.

I don't meet either Adam, Bree, or Chase's eyes at all, so I keep my eyes downcast, and I memorize the patterns in my bedspread, becoming focused on that instead of the eyes of the three people that care about me.

My room is enveloped in silence for the next few minutes until I feel Chase's lips press gently onto mine. "Well, if you feel like your drowning, Adam, Bree, Tasha, Mr. Davenport, Leo and I will make you keep your head above water, even if you feel like your head is going down under. Adam, Bree and I swear that we will be there for you, always, no matter what happens to you. Okay?" He asks me, his hands cupping my cheek, and I smile a little bit at him and I feel that Adam and Bree have moved away from us to go back to bed, and I feel happy for the first time in three months.

"Okay." I say, and I pull him down for another kiss.

* * *

I've been slowly getting better, if you can call it that. For a few months now, I've been recovering, or at least trying to recover, from what happened to me. I'm tying to recover from my depression, and I feel happy to say that I'm winning against my depression.

Sure, I still have my days when I don't want to get up out of my bed, becoming untangled in Chase's warm body and face the world at all, but I'm better now.

I don't get as many nightmares when I fall asleep at night, and some nights, to my surprise, I'm free of any gut wrenching, heartbreaking nightmares. I'm slowly getting back to the girl I was before the FBI took me away.

The little voice that kept on taunting me for almost ten and a half months now has gone away now, almost completely, now that I've bounced back from my depression.

Life in the family has been getting better, almost back to the way it was before, and I'm surprised at how quickly everything is healing itself. I'm surprised that I've even bounced back from my depression at all, to be honest with myself. I'm really glad that I have my family here too, or otherwise I don't know where I would be right now. I'd probably still be depressed, that's for sure.

Life goes on in the Davenport family, as hectic and as crazy as ever, but I'm not drowning anymore, so that's a plus.

Maybe everything will be good from now on.

I really hope it will stay like that forever.


End file.
